Operation Get the Girl
by kamapaludo
Summary: Draco Malfoy regretted many things, but his biggest regret might be his treatment of Hermione Granger during their Hogwarts years. Years after the Final Battle, Draco attends her wedding. When a magical portrait claims the ability to send him to the past, can Draco use this chance to win the woman he loves? Some parody and drama. Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: The Present**

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Summary** : Draco Malfoy regretted many things, but his biggest regret might be his treatment of Hermione Granger during their Hogwarts years. Years after the Final Battle, Draco has become friends with the Golden Trio. They're such good friends that he's giving a speech at her wedding with Ron Weasley! When a magical portrait claims the ability to send him to the past, can Draco use this chance to win the woman he loves? Premise loosely based on "Proposal Daisakusen" and "Groundhog Day".

 **A/N** : Because I've changed, and you've changed, and so has this story…

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A ray of light shone through a part in the dark gray curtains of a small apartment. A barren bookcase stood against one wall, while boxes filled with books were haphazardly pushed against another. A few unopened boxes served as tables for dirty mugs, bottles of firewhiskey, and a stack of unopened mail. In the middle of the living room sat an expensive-looking black sofa. A disheveled young man slept, one arm hanging off the edge of his chosen bed, and the other, flung over his face to block the sun.

It might appear as though Draco Malfoy only recently moved in. The half-unpacked trunk and overall lack of furniture in the bedroom might also contribute to this impression. However, it was the weeks and weeks of overtime at the DMLE that kept Draco's apartment in its current state of disarray (or so he'd like to think).

Draco groaned as he shifted on the leather cushions. The patch of sunlight landed directly on his face when he moved his arm. That, along with the sudden knocking at the door, disrupted his plans of a Saturday morning lie-in.

"Malfoy, are you up? Open the door!"

Potter. Of course.

Draco groaned again, which led to a small coughing fit. He reached for a nearby mug, but stopped at the sight of the murky contents.

"Malfoy!" Harry Potter whined.

Draco ignored him while absentmindedly scratching the scruff on his face. He sat up, shoving his blanket to the side.

In a quieter voice, Potter hissed, "Malfoy, if you don't get up, I'm blasting this door open, regardless of your Muggle neighbors."

Draco rolled his eyes and made his way to the door. The reason why he moved to Muggle London was to discourage his fellow wizards from finding him. Though, that apparently wasn't enough to ditch the Boy-Who-Just-Won't-Stop-Knocking. It probably also didn't help that they worked together and were on – somewhat – friendly terms.

"Geez, took you long enough!" The boy wonder pushed through Draco's arm to enter. Draco saw him giving his living room a surreptitious glance before rounding back to him. "Why aren't you ready yet?"

"Potter, it's eight in the morning. On a fucking Saturday. Why the hell would I be up? And ready for what?"

Draco yawned as he padded to the kitchen and opened the fridge. It was empty except for an open bottle of firewhiskey, a moldy sandwich, and two bruised bananas. With a sniff, Draco grabbed the bottle and closed the door.

Harry frowned. He took the bottle from Draco's hand and set it on the counter.

"Like you said, it's eight in the morning. Drinking already?"

Shrugging, Draco grabbed the bottle again. "There's nothing else in the fridge."

Draco heard him sigh. He saw the nosy git head to the sofa and grab the stack of envelopes.

"Draco, it's today."

Hearing Potter use his name made him pause mid-swig.

"You didn't even open the invitation, did you?" Harry pointed an accusing finger. "We've talked about this. You won't answer any of her calls, but Hermione is still expecting you to be there, as her friend, and to support her on this important day, you sleek and pointy ponce."

Draco stood by the counter, staring at his drink. He wasn't sure, but there seemed to be something floating in it.

"Malfoy!"

"Stop yelling, Potter," Draco said, pinching the bridge of his nose. He really needed to replenish his potions stock.

"It doesn't matter, anyway. I wasn't planning on going, just to see –" Draco stopped.

It was no use. For months after the announcement, he had moped around, using work as an excuse for the lack of interaction. He would wake up and go to work, surrounded by those who either loved to brownnose him for his money and influence or those who hated him with affected self-righteousness for his past. He would then go home, refuse all Floo calls, ignore all letters, and drink himself to sleep. The next day, he would do it all again, not giving himself time to think and remember that the woman he loved was soon to marry another man.

Harry cleared his throat. They never talked about it, but he always suspected that Draco had feelings for Hermione. Despite their constant bickering, she and Draco had become close friends. And, though they didn't want to admit it, he and Draco had mended a few bridges as well while working at the DMLE for the past three years.

"Come on, the ceremony starts in an hour. You know she wants you there." Harry clapped a hand on the brooding man's shoulders.

Draco shrugged his hand off in irritation.

"I'll be ready in a few," Draco said gruffly as he started to shuffle towards the bathroom.

"Here." Harry held out a vial of Sober-up Potion impatiently. He already had his wand out, intending to clean the clutter a bit.

"Leave it," Draco said as he took the potion, "Just…just sit down and read or something." He held up the empty vial in thanks.

Harry just shook his head.

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Draco stood at the entrance of the Great Hall, now clean-shaven and dashing in his tailored robes. Despite his unrequited love (or maybe because of it – he was a bit of a masochist that way), Draco decided to put a smile on his face for the wedding. Or, rather, a smirk. He was still Draco Malfoy, after all.

All he wanted to see was Hermione beautiful and happy. _Yes, beautiful and happy next to_ you _, though, right?_ He squashed the snarky voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Snape and, burying his self-pity, entered the hall.

The Golden Couple – as the media had dubbed them upon their engagement – requested to have the wedding ceremony at Hogwarts. The old matron graciously acquiesced but refused the Galleons Hermione offered.

"Nonsense, my dear. This is your home!" She had exclaimed happily while dabbing at the corner of her eyes.

Behind her, the portrait of Albus Dumbledore twinkled and winked at them while Snape merely looked bored.

"Thank you so much, Minerva," Hermione gushed. She shared a look with her husband-to-be. "We can't imagine getting married anywhere else."

The Great Hall, once divided by houses, was now divided by friends of the bride or groom. Pews lined both sides of a dark red carpet that lead to the Entrance Hall. Golden ribbons decorated each pew, along with flowers of the darkest crimson. Gold fabric draped and crisscrossed from the ceiling. Most of the guests themselves also wore red and gold.

It was so, utterly _Gryffindorish_. They took the whole Golden Couple thing seriously, didn't they? And yet, if only…

Draco was suddenly dragged to the front of the room. "Wha – what?"

"What took you so long, Malfoy?" Ron Weasley asked shortly.

Glaring at Harry and the red-head adjusting his robes, Draco sneered, "Potter, most civilized people don't _accio_ others to them, you know. And Weasley, what am I doing here?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione said so."

She truly was a sadist. Didn't she know who he was? Or more importantly, how he _felt?_ Resigned to his fate as second best man, he whispered harshly, "Stop fidgeting!"

Ron glared back for a moment and then grinned sheepishly.

At that moment, orchestral music started as the Entrance Hall doors slowly opened. All heads turned to watch the wedding march, starting from the bridal party. Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, and, some were surprised to note, Pansy Parkinson entered in their golden gowns, each lovely in their own way. Meanwhile, Dennis Creevey, taking the mantle from his brother, was the designated wedding photographer.

As the three girls took their place across from them, Draco saw Harry give a sickeningly sweet smile to his fiancée, who grinned back and blew him a kiss. Draco felt just the slightest bit of jealousy mixed with disgust at the display, but his attention quickly returned to the doors where a vision in white entered.

Hermione slowly walked in, escorted by the teary Weasley patriarch. Draco could see her nervously eyeing the exclaiming guests, her hands tightly clutching her bouquet. As they made their way down the aisle, he saw Hermione stiffen as she saw the empty seats at the first pew on her side. Her gaze then moved to him and he saw her grip on her bouquet (and Mr. Weasley's arm) loosen considerably.

Draco's throat felt constricted and his heart was beating hard. He could no longer hear the music or the murmur of the crowd. He could no longer see the sea of red and gold. All his senses instead honed in on the blushing bride, his mind recording every smile, every crinkle of her eyes, the short huff of breath and tilt of the chin, and the way she pushed her shoulders back in determination after meeting his eyes…

He repressed the wild urge to grab her hand and steal her away. It was impossible. It was too late. But, if only…

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 **A/N** : Just some clarification on the "present": Draco and the Golden Trio are now around 25 years old. It's eight years after the Final Battle and Draco started working at the DMLE three years ago.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The Way**

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Summary** : Draco Malfoy regretted many things, but his biggest regret might be his treatment of Hermione Granger during their Hogwarts years. Years after the Final Battle, Draco has become friends with the Golden Trio. They're such good friends that he's giving a speech at her wedding with Ron Weasley! When a magical portrait claims the ability to send him to the past, can Draco use this chance to win the woman he loves? Premise loosely based on "Proposal Daisakusen" and "Groundhog Day".

 **A/N** : Revised! This chapter will finish setting everything up for Draco to take his trip, starting next chapter. Plus, more eye rolling!

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"Hem, hem."

"Merlin's tits!" Blaise Zabini quickly spun around in his seat and glared up at Draco. "That's not funny. That's really not funny!"

Draco smirked. After the ceremony, he had drawn away from the crowd of well-wishers and was looking for a place to hide. As the pews were transfigured into tables and chairs, he had quickly spotted Blaise in the back and decided to join him.

"Constant vigilance and all, my friend," he drawled, pulling a chair to sit next to the glaring young man. "You never know when something or someone will, ah, leap out and capture your stubbornly bachelor heart."

Blaise rolled his eyes at the blond. "You must be incredibly bored to be pulling out such puns."

"Yes, well, it's not only a pun, is it? The pink toad really did jum—"

"HA! Ha ha ha! That's real funny, Draco, I never get tired of it!" Blaise enthusiastically smacked Draco on his back while glancing around.

Ginny, who was walking by with a plate of food, most certainly did not curiously look at their table. Luna, who was walking with her, stopped in her tracks and stared for a full five seconds before continuing.

"Draco, I believe the very nature of Slytherins engenders a camaraderie wherein secrets – your own or another fellow's – are deemed precious and are only revealed at opportune moments for a specific purpose, don't you agree?" Blaise said slowly as he squeezed Draco's arm.

"Ah, yes, I quite agree…um, you can let go now. They're gone," Draco said, wincing.

Blaise raised an eyebrow but did not relent in his subtle warning. "Oh? I hadn't even gotten to the outright threats yet, mate." He gave one more painful squeeze before letting go.

Draco rubbed his arm. Although not remotely comparable to a Cruciatus, Blaise's warnings did tend to leave a lasting impression.

"So," Draco started as he looked around, "You and Pansy on the outs again?"

"Do you really want to talk about my love life right now? I'd rather talk about yours, or rather, the lack thereof," Blaise shot at him. Apparently, Umbridge was still a touchy subject.

Draco looked down at the elaborate napkin fold. Was that supposed to be shaped like a phoenix? He snatched the gold monstrosity and crumpled it on his lap. Next to him, Blaise frowned but pretended not to see. He knew his friend was fighting to keep his bitterness at bay.

"Hmm? Who needs a girl when I'm happily free and single?" Draco's smile was carefully relaxed. A few tables away, he saw the newlywed couple greeting Longbottom and his girlfriend. He couldn't quite remember her name, but he thought he remembered her as a Hufflepuff. A pretty Hufflepuff. _Huh, even Longbottom's getting some_.

"That's the spirit!"

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

Horace Slughorn, big and unctuous as ever, winked at both men. Actually, he just blinked with his face turned to the side. Winking was never a skill the old Potions professor mastered. The hand not groping Draco's shoulder was holding a plate piled precariously high with petite cakes.

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy," the old walrus leaned in, chins and cakes shaking, "When you decide to retire your solitude, I can introduce to you a handful of lovely, young ladies! In fact, here comes one now!"

Draco and Blaise looked where Slughorn indicated. Gabrielle Delacour noticed their attention and abruptly changed her course.

Slughorn chortled.

"Perhaps she's still a bit shy, eh? No worries, I'll owl you a list later. Simply let me know who piques your interest."

Another victim walked by.

"Ah, Minister Shacklebolt, just the man I was looking for!" He trotted to the man, the pile of sweets dangerously wobbling in his hand.

"So…where were we? Ah yes, we were talking about how you were still in love with Granger – oh excuse me, she's Weasley now, isn't she?" Blaise smirked.

Draco threw him a rude gesture, but before he could retort, the chatter around them abruptly stopped as Harry tapped on the microphone in the front, intending to start the speeches.

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"Hem, hem."

Laughter broke out among the crowd ("See, it's funny!" Draco whispered to the stiff man beside him).

Harry looked around the hall. The few years after the war, though initially fraught with uncertainty and grief, eventually led to the breaking of centuries-long barriers between families and houses. No longer was there prejudice from the older families – or at least, they were no longer showing an outright distaste towards Muggleborns and those they had deemed blood traitors. Still, that did not mean that all was forgiven between the children of Death Eaters (or actual Death Eaters) and most of the magical world. Even now, in a wedding filled with those who made the most effort to forgive and forget, the handful of Slytherins sat at the edges of the crowd.

He took a deep breath. One small change at a time. After all, who would have thought years ago that Draco Malfoy would be attending Hermione Granger's wedding to Ronald Weasley?

"Nearly a decade ago, I began my journey here at Hogwarts filled with wonder and anticipation," Harry began. "As a child, I had wished for an explanation for the inexplicable. I think that deep down, I had always wished for mysterious strangers to whisk me away and show me a new world." At this, Harry nodded to the left, at the already teary Hagrid.

"I had wished for adventure. To be special. To be loved. Well, I got that. I got that in spades, actually."

Most of the guests were now either smiling indulgently or in exasperation. Honestly, he didn't need to remind them of his special adventures with his loved ones.

"You could say my Hogwarts years were simply filled with special adventures with my loved ones."

Draco scoffed. He looked at the center table where Ron embraced Hermione with one arm, a stupid grin on his face. To her credit, Hermione was rolling her eyes at Harry's words.

"I've had enough of recounting our tales of danger, but something I never tire of is thanking my best friends. It would not be an exaggeration to say that I would not be here if not for Ron and Hermione."

Draco could see Potter and many of the guests tearing up.

"They embody the best traits of Gryffindor: courage and strength of will. However, they also have admiral qualities from other houses. Who can deny that Hermione is as cunning as any Slytherin? Can any Ravenclaw say they love knowledge more than the greatest bookworm of our time? Or any Hufflepuff outwork the girl that finished homework two weeks in advance? Every Hufflepuff would welcome any Weasley for their loyalty, and even Ravenclaws and Slytherins could respect Ron's skills at planning and strategy. The presses were right – they really are a golden couple.

However, like any couple (golden or otherwise), they've had their ups and downs. The fact that they have stood the test of adversity, time, and other – uh, people – is a testament of the strength of their love."

There was a loud snort of derision from one of the tables near the front. Blaise looked back at Draco to make a remark, but he was already gone.

"Dennis helped me put together a few photos his brother, Colin, took of our time together at Hogwarts and I wanted to share them with you to show the progress – the evolution, if you will, of my best friends throughout the years. Maybe there will be some tales of danger, who knows?"

Harry turned red as no one laughed this time.

"Dennis?" Harry called abruptly, "Is the slideshow ready?"

Heads turned to the young man fiddling with a projector. Dennis grinned and gave a thumbs up.

"Alright, er – Headmistress, if you could please –"

As if on cue, red and gold banners unfurled in front of the windows, hiding the early afternoon sunshine. The ceiling of the Great Hall suddenly turned into the night sky and the golden fabric began to dimly glow.

Harry stepped aside as the projector whirred to life.

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As Potter continued his speech, Draco moved to the punch table. He had heard this speech too many times in the last few weeks at work and there really was no use hearing it again now. Maybe he'd take a look at the pictures. Those should be fun.

"You've grown to be a fine young man, Mr. Malfoy," a voice said behind him.

Punch dribbled out of Draco's mouth and down his chin. He hastily grabbed a napkin and wiped his face before turning around. He could have sworn he heard the old coot. The Snape voice in his head was also shocked.

"Yes Mr. Malfoy, it is I, the old coot. Over here!"

Draco nearly gave himself whiplash as he looked around. It couldn't possibly be – ah, of course.

"Headmaster," Draco warily greeted the portrait hanging on the wall.

"Why the long face, my dear boy?" Dumbledore asked, twinkling.

"Are we really going to have a conversation, sir? Why are you here, anyway, instead of in the thick of things over there?" replied Draco testily.

"Alas," Dumbledore said gently. "I have had enough of being 'in the thick of things' as you so put it."

Draco seriously doubted this, but kept silent. Too late, he remembered that the twinkling meddler could hear his thoughts somehow. Oops.

A flash of something crossed the old man's eyes. And was that a smirk Draco saw?

"Draco," he continued gently, "Draco my dear boy, I have wanted to speak with you for some time. In fact, you could even say I requested to be hung here in order to catch you away from the others."

Dumbledore peered at the young man before him. It was a pity that while happiness readily returned to those touched by the war, a few deeply scarred children like Draco were still seeking it. Although, he wasn't exactly a child anymore, was he?

Meanwhile, Draco was peering at his punch suspiciously.

"How would you even know –" Draco sighed. "Can I help you with something, Professor?" Thoughts of the headmaster's machinations during the war ran through his mind.

"Actually, I was hoping I could help you, my dear boy," Dumbledore said with a smile.

"Er…"

"I have heard that you and Miss Granger – excuse me, Mrs. Weasley, now, have become friends in the recent years."

Draco rolled his eyes. _That nosy, old man!_

"Friends? I suppose we have," he said slowly, wondering where the conversation was going and hoping Dumbledore didn't hear his last thought.

"Had she ever recounted to you her experience with a Time Turner during her third year?"

Draco shook his head, bewildered.

"No, I don't suppose she had. Well, what do you know of time travel?"

"Many people have tried traveling through time to change the course of history, but it is only possible to travel back a few hours." Draco paused. A niggling suspicion was growing within his mind.

"Any known facts of occurrence cannot be changed," he continued. "Attempts at changing such points in history result in disaster for the time traveler and their past counterpart."

"Excellent! Ten points to Slytherin! Now, Mr. Malfoy, what would you do if it were possible to travel years into the past?"

The first thing that popped into his mind was confusion. What was Dumbledore trying to say? Why was he even still talking to him? Then, thoughts he steadily kept repressing all day flooded in. _If only…if only…_

"If only what, Mr. Malfoy? If only you had treated her differently, you would be the one next to her?" asked the old man knowingly.

He glared at the painting. "What are you getting at, Professor?" He shook his head with impatience. "Nothing can be done because time travel to that extent is impossible! If it weren't, you would have helped Potter defeat Voldemort earlier." He was done with the pretense of civility. The old coot was crazy and for some reason, had taken upon himself a mission to drag Draco into the mix.

Dumbledore looked grave.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, were it possible, we would have used this tool to defeat Tom in a way to prevent the many deaths that occurred. However, this is where academic theory and murky speculation meet: just how much can we change when going back in time?"

The old man thoughtfully stared at Harry, who was wrapping up his speech. "What could Harry have changed so that the known occurrences still played out as remembered, while saving lives? I feel, however, that this train of thought is best left to academics and not to those so deeply affected by the war. My theory for general time travel is that only the barest minimum of changes can influence potential."

"Potential, sir?" Without him knowing, Draco had been moving closer to the portrait, hanging on to every word.

"Yes. Time travel can make changes in the past to change potential in the future or the present he or she comes from. For example, if someone were to go back in time and befriend Peter Pettigrew just enough to give a kind word or a pat of encouragement, I believe that he would still have become a Death Eater and betrayed the Potters. However, he might not have been so easily scared or tempted to betray them."

Draco said with a frown, "Then there would be no point, as he would still betray them."

"But it would be done with reluctance and perhaps even through force rather than voluntarily! This is an extreme example, but what would happen if the change you're making is not a matter of life or death? What if it is to simply draw an eye toward someone to whom it was not drawn before?"

Dumbledore watched as the young man before him glance at the woman he so clearly longed for.

"It's not too late, Draco," he said with conviction. "You only have to say the magic words."

"Wait, what?" Draco turned back towards the portrait. He swore he saw a manic gleam light up behind the headmaster's spectacles. And it wasn't going away!

"'Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!' That's all you have to say!" Dumbledore was positively giddy by now. "Oh, and of course, you have to give a Gryffindor a hug and give them ten points!"

 _What?!_

Then, the lights went out.

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 **A/N** : The next chapter is finished and will be up soon!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: The Journey**

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Summary** : Draco Malfoy regretted many things, but his biggest regret might be his treatment of Hermione Granger during their Hogwarts years. Years after the Final Battle, Draco has become friends with the Golden Trio. They're such good friends that he's giving a speech at her wedding with Ron Weasley! When a magical portrait claims the ability to send him to the past, can Draco use this chance to win the woman he loves? Premise loosely based on "Proposal Daisakusen" and "Groundhog Day".

 **A/N** : It's all very absurd. But he's going, I swear!

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Draco felt the adrenaline rush through his body as he heard several screams and gasps. Temporarily forgetting the crazy conversation he just had with Dumbledore, he quickly cast _Lumos_ along with several other people.

Suddenly, a bright, silver stag appeared and everyone immediately calmed down.

 _What – how does that even..?_

Draco rolled his eyes. Potter. Of course.

"Sorry, so sorry everyone!" Harry was saying. "Dennis, have you fixed the projector yet?!"

"Just one moment…there!" A squeak, a bang, then a whimper later, the projector and the golden ceiling curtains turned back on. Creevey's huge head was blocking the light, creating a rather terrifying shadow on the wall.

"Draco!"

Draco whirled around, wand pointing towards the voice. "Oh, Blaise, it's you." He tucked his wand away and walked toward his waving friend.

"Where'd you go?" Blaise complained. "Right after you left, I was trying to pay attention to Potter's speech, but that Lovegood girl decided to join me and started giving me a blow by blow account of her search for Crumple-Horny Snorlacks or something."

Draco smirked. "That must have been a…titillating experience for you."

Blaise tried to shove him, but he dodged because he was, after all, Draco Malfoy.

As they walked back, Draco saw that Luna Lovegood was indeed sitting at their table. Inexplicably, she was holding court with Brown, Pansy, and the hot Hufflepuff.

 _Bones. Susan Bones_ , Snape supplied in his head.

Hmm…what was in that punch?

As he and Blaise dithered about, now ousted from their table, he remembered another incongruous occurrence with another dead headmaster. He quickly turned back towards the punch table, but Albus Dumbledore's portrait was no longer there.

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"…and here is another picture from our first year!" Harry shared excitedly. The brief speech he was asked to prepare had now turned into a half-hour long presentation. The guests, with the exception of Lovegood's table and his own, were still hanging on to his every word. Oh, and was that the Weaslette throwing shade at Brown? Sooooomebody got replaced in the lineup.

"Wasn't Creevey a year younger than us?" Blaise whispered to Draco with a frown. "So, who took those pictures in first year?"

Draco shrugged. "Some other member of Potter's fan club, probably. Or maybe Thomas. He's a Muggleborn."

Blaise nodded, then gave a sly grin. "You know who else is Muggleborn?"

"Shut the fuck up, Blaise!" Draco furiously whispered.

He could hear Blaise breathing heavily as he suppressed his laughter. As one, the Lovegood table looked at them. There were no other empty tables in the back and they were _not_ going to traipse through the crowd to look for one in the middle or, Merlin forbid, wade through the sea of redheads in the front. On the other hand, they were stuck sitting at a table next to the motley crew of bridesmaids plus Lavender Brown, minus Ginny Weasley. There was definitely something in that punch.

He quickly looked back, as if to catch the headmaster in flagrante delicto. Nope, still not there. Draco was starting to think he had hallucinated the whole exchange with Dumbledore's crazy portrait.

Potter was _finally_ showing pictures of second year.

"And here is…uh, why is this in here?" Harry muttered loudly.

Draco was initially amused to see the results of Weasleys backfired slug jinx, but then frowned when he remembered why he had cast it in the first place.

The picture was of the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams on the field, with the Golden Trio and Draco at the center. Draco remembered that day clearly. It was the day he was revealed as the Slytherin team Seeker. His father had gifted the entire team with new brooms and the Gryffindors couldn't have been more jealous. However, it was also the day that he had called her _that word_.

Draco had referred to Hermione Granger as the Mudblood since he first discovered her blood status (which was fairly early on in first year). That day was the first time he had ever said it to her face, however, and the picture perfectly captured her expression of hurt and suspicion. It also clearly showed his malicious satisfaction at the chaos and misery around him.

He heard some not-so-quiet booing and noticed several not-so-covert glances his way.

"Move on to the next slide, Harry."

Hermione's clear voice cut through the titters. Draco looked at her. She was focused solely on Potter, but he could see a slight blush on her cheeks. Weasley, next to her, was completely red in the face.

 _If only…_

Harry was fiddling with a controller. "Yeah, I…er…I'm trying to. Sorry, folks, technical difficulties."

This caused a few more titters.

"Psst! Draco!"

He turned towards the next table.

Pansy was looking at him knowingly. "Reminds you of the good ol' days, doesn't it? Back when you were a prat?"

"Don't be dense, Pansy," Blaise snapped. "He's still a prat."

The four girls giggled and Draco was nervous to see Lovegood twinkling at him.

"Oh yes, he's definitely still a prat, but at least he's not as much of a _nitwit_ as before _,_ " chortled Pansy.

WHAT.

"Please. At least he was never a _blubber_ like Neville," sniffed Lavender.

THE.

"Hey, that's my boyfriend you're insulting! You know what? At least he wasn't considered the _oddment_ of the Gryffindor house!" returned Susan with a passion.

ACTUAL

"Now, girls, I think it's time we _tweak_ our voices a little, hmm?" said Luna serenely.

FUCK?!

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. Someone had to be pulling his leg, right?

"Wow, quite the overprotective badger, isn't she?" Blaise whispered with glee. Some things never change, and watching other people's misfortune was a favorite past time of many a Slytherin.

Brown stood up, color high on her cheeks and eyes suspiciously wet. She attempted to make a dramatic exit, but her spin didn't have enough torque and then she was falling towards Draco.

It's funny how life suddenly moves in slow motion at crucial moments.

Ever the gentleman (and because he was the closest), Draco instinctively stood up to catch Brown, thereby inadvertently _hugging a Gryffindor_. His eyes, however, were drawn to Lovegood's. They were twinkling again.

No. Whether she was loony or possessed…just, no.

Even as he caught Lavender Brown, even as her gown caught under his shoe, therefore ripping them, and even as the wolf whistles started upon the revelation of the girl's bright red thong, Draco felt a sense of triumph.

No matter what machinations Dumbledore was trying to pull, and no matter how absurd and surreal that past half hour had been, Draco was _not_ going to say the magic words.

"Nice! _Ten points to Gryffindor_!" exclaimed Blaise appreciatively.

That doesn't count!

Then, the lights went out. Again.

OGTG-OGTG-OGTG-OGTG-OGTG-OGTG-OGTG-OGTG-OGTG-OGTG-OGTG-OGTG

Draco groaned as he shifted on the four post bed. The patch of sunlight landed directly on his face when he moved his arm. That, along with the sudden knocking at the door, disrupted his plans of a Saturday morning lie-in.

"Malfoy, are you up? Open the door!"

Pucey. Of course.

Draco groaned again, which led to a small coughing fit. He reached for a nearby mug, but there was nothing inside.

"Malfoy!" Adrian Pucey thundered.

Draco ignored him while absentmindedly scratching his smooth face. He sat up, shoving his blanket to the side.

In a quieter voice, Pucey hissed, "Malfoy, if you don't get up, I'm kicking you off the team, regardless of your father's contribution."

Draco rolled his eyes and made his way to the door.

Draco paused. And buffered.

Something was wrong. Really wrong.

Slowly, he turned around and looked at his surroundings. He was still at Hogwarts, but now he was in his old dorm. The light was different. It was morning instead of early afternoon. Suddenly struck with nostalgia, he realized that the room was just as he remembered, with the five beds for him, Blaise, Theo, Goyle, and Crabbe.

Crabbe. Who was dead.

Er…Crabbe. Who is not dead. Who is snoring.

Pucey was still knocking and had moved on to quiet obscenities. The bed curtains on the bed next to his suddenly opened.

"Draco, either quit the team or open the door and get to practice. We're all trying to sleep here, you know," a twelve-year-old Blaise whined.

Eyes wide and heart thundering, Draco looked for his wand. He felt a momentary panic when he didn't find it under his pillow, but then remembered that, at twelve, they had all kept their wands in their bedside drawers. For safekeeping.

It was then that he caught sight of his reflection on a nearby mirror. And promptly fainted.

OGTG-OGTG-OGTG-OGTG-OGTG-OGTG-OGTG-OGTG-OGTG-OGTG-OGTG-OGTG

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading.


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